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EULOGIUM 




ON THE 



LIFE AND CHARACTER 



GEN. WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON, 



XATE PRESIMNT OF THE UNITED STATES; 



DELIVEIIED BEFORE 



•THE LEGISLATURE OF PENKSYLVAN'IA, 



ON THE C'4th APRIL, 1841. 



BY THOMAS WILLIAMS, ES< 
Senator from Ailcgiicny Couiily. 



HARRi«BURG-. 
ELLIOTT & M'CURDY, PRINTERS 



IS 41. 





Class. 



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Book. 



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GEN. W.H.HARRISON 



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E U L O G I U M 



LIFE AND CHARACTER 



OP %'-^ 



GEN. WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON, 

LATE PRESIDENT OP TKE UNITED STATES: 

DELIVERED BEFORE 

THE LEGISLATURE OF PENNSYLVANIA, 

ON THE 24th APRIL, 184t, 

tev 

THOMAS WILLIAMS, ESQ., 

Senator from Allegheny County, 

1 

y^'\-i OF cdAr,?>S^ 

'■■ ■ -'"■, -.-, - '' 



liARRlSBURG: 
ELLIOTT & M'CURDY, PRINTERS. 

1S41. 



I.i> 



EULOGY, 



Senators asd KEPRESENXAf ives : 

It is no common task which your partiality has assigned mc. It 
is no common event which has assembled us together. To me belongs 
not now the grateful theme which stirs the public pulse on some high 
festival commemorative ofthb glorious past. No joyous ceremonial — 
no inaugural fete is this which has Ihis day gathered' the representative 
majesty of the people of Pennsylvania within this hall. The emblems 
of woe are around Us ; a nation is clad in the habilaments of mourn- 
ing, and the voice of wailing and lamentation is heard upon every 
breeze. The head of this great republic, the elect of this mighty peo- 
ple, the idol of a nation's hopes, called so recently from his retirement 
to preside over the destinies of this glorious sisterhood of States — the 
soldier, the statesman, the sage, the patriot HARUisojf is no more ! 
Yes ! the illustrious man, who but yesterday on the steps of the Fede- 
ral Capitol, tmdcr the shadow of our national banner, and in the pres- 
ence of the assembled thousands who were congregated together from 
the remotest extremities of this broad land to witness the sublime spec- 
tacle, pronounced the solemn vow of fealty to the Constitution, and 
invoked the Ruler of the universe to attest the sincerity of the pledge 
which he then gave, has already laid down the high commission with 
which he was invested, and with it all the symbols of command, and 
yielding to the summons of Omnipotence with the same cheerful sub- 
mission with which he has ever obeyed the calls of duty here, has been 
translated from the scene of his responsibilities on earth, to the scene 
of a higher responsibility in heaven. The silver chord has been loosed ; 
the tongue which was then elo(|Ucnt of truth is now mute forever, even 
while its last echoes are yet lingering upon the ear ; the eye which 
then kindled with the inspirations of an exalted patriotism is already 
sealed in eternal sleep ; and the heart which then throbbed with tlie 
deepest anxiety for a nation's welfare is forever at rest. The pageant 
and the procession — the nodding plume — the gallant array — the bray- 
ing of the trumpet and the trampling of the horse have passed away : 



the high hope, the animated pulse is gone : the curtain of death has 
descended over the spirit-stirrmg scene ; the idol of that day — "the 
cynosure of ail eyes," — '" the observed of all observers," is already 
gathered to his fathers, and those who swelled his triumphal cavalcade 
as it moved in the direction of the capitol, have in one short month 
been again summoned to follow in silence and sadness, and with down- 
cast eyes the sable hearse which conveyed his mortal remains to " the 
house appointed f!:)r all the living." What a change is here? How 
sudden, how abrupt the transition from sunlight to gloom ! Who is in- 
sensible to its influence? Who hath not realized in this melancholy 
reverse the nothingness of all human pomp — the stern and startling 
admonition which it conveys ? Who hath not felt the warm current of 
life turned backward to its source by the earthquake shock which has 
suspended the general pulse of the nation, and hushed even the temp- 
est of pafty into repose? Who hath not been subdued by the com- 
mon calamity which has made us feel that we are men, and has at the 
same time reminded us that we are the children of a common country, 
into a momentary forgetfulness that he had ever been a party-man? 
Who does not feel that such a loss, at such a time and under such 
circumstances is indeed a national bereavement ? Who does not 
mourn over it as a national calamity ? The venerable man whose 
loss we so deeply deplore, though nominated by a party, became by 
the choice of the nation and under the forms of our Constitution, the 
President of the people. It is not too much to say of him that he 
possessed the confidence of that people in a higher degree perhaps than 
any individual living. It is equally true that to his long experience, 
his tried integrity, and his exalted patriotism, they looked for deliver- 
ance from the many cmbarrasments which now surround them. They 
imd the assurance at least in his past life of inflexible honesty and up- 
right intention. Whether his administration of the affairs of this great 
nation would have realized in all respects the high wrought expecta- 
tions of those who had garnered up their hopes in him is not now the 
question. It is enough that the people trusted iiim. The loss of such 
a man in any great national extremity and before he has enjoyed the 
opportunity of testing his adaptation to the wishes and wants of those 
who have conferred upon him their highest honors is always a public 
calamity. 

But it is not merely as the head of this great nation that we are as- 
sembled to pay our solemn tribute of aflection to the memory of the 
distinguished dead. He has other and earlier and perhaps higher 



titles to our regard. The last and greatest of your gifts, was not merely 
a payment in advance for services hereafter to be rendered. It was 
richly earned., before it was bestowed. It was but the tardy aclcnow- 
ledgment of a long arrear of toils and sacrifices, the crowning re- 
ward of a protracted and laborious life expended in the service of the 
the country, in the protection of its infant settlements, and in the ad- 
vancement not more of its happiness than its renown. The name of 
Harrison has long adorned the brightest pages of our country's his- 
tory, and those who live beyond the mountains will bear me witness 
when I say that there at least for more than five and twenty years it 
has been equally embalmed in story, and immortalized in song. The 
individual who addresses you is old enough to remember the time when 
that name was as familiar to the ear of childhood as a nursery talc, 
for often has he heard the western mother hush her infant with the ballad 
of the Prophet's fall, or tell her listening boys that their father or their 
brethren were out under the gallant Harrison on the perilous fron- 
tier. Many years have now elapsed since it was publicly affirmed of 
him by one who has enjoyed a large share of the popular honors, a 
gallant soldier himself, who bears upon his body in numerous scars 
the honorable and enduring testimonials of his own devotion to the 
country, that " the History of the West was Jda History." And what 
a history is that? Surely no pen of ancient chronicle has ever told, no 
fiction of the poet ever framed a tale which will compare in interest 
with that which records the early struggles of the founders and defen- 
ders of that mighty empire which has sprung up like enchantment 
upon our western border, and is still stretching its ample wing and 
pouring its living tides in the direction of the setting sun. To hav» 
been associated with those struggles so intimately as to have becomtf 
a part and parcel of such a history, were distinction enough to have 
secured to any man a deathless name. No conqueror ever reposed in 
a prouder mausoleum than this ; no loftier monument has ever risen, 
either at the bidding of ambition, or under the afiectionate hands of public 
gratitude to the founder of a dynasty or the defender of a throne. 
The pyramids of the Egyptian kings themselves shall moulder into 
dust before the early records of that fair and happy realm, or the 
names of those gallant spirits who led their forefathers through the 
wilderness shall perish from the recollections of that mighty people 
who are now diffusing themselves in myriads over its surface and arc 
destined one day to be multitudinous as the stars of heaven, 'i'he his- 
tory of that wondrous realm is now the history of the broadest and fair- 



est portion of our Union. x\nd so too is the whole life of its defender 
Haruison. The last Cow years have given to its tales of stirring in- 
cident and startling peril an interest of a still broader and more dif- 
fusive character, and twined its thrilling and romantic narrative of 
border achievement more intimately than ever with the lasting glo- 
ne«>of our common land. But they have only brought out into bold- 
er relief the rich memorials ofa most eventful lite which lie scattered in 
bountiful profusion through many a page of that narrative. A large 
portion of that life has been already written, and the Muse of History 
now stands ready to fling her rainbow tints over its illuminated close. 
She has already told how the warrior and patriot has lived : she will 
now tell how the patriot could die. I will not encroach on her pro- 
vince. Mine is the humbler task of delineating with a hurried hand, 
the mere outline of a long and eventful career, and of pointing out a few 
of those elevations swelling most boldly above the level of ordinary 
life, on whose summits the sunlight of renown will linger long after the 
shadows of many generations shall have settled upon the plain. Bear 
with mc then while I endeavor to perform this task and suffer me also 
to gather, as we proceed, from the richly enamelled field which lies in 
shade an occasional offering for the fresh grave of the departed Chief. 
Half a century ago a stripling boy of the tender age of eighteen 
years arrived in the town where we are now assembled, bearing the 
commission of an Ensign in the armies of the United States, and on 
his way to join the gallant but ill-fated St. Clair on the north-western 
frontier. There are those lingering amongst us yet who remember 
the fragile frame but manly port of that chivalrous boy, who, nursed 
iqi the lap of aflluence and elegant refinement, had disdained the inglo- 
rious remonstrances of his elders and forsaking friends and family and 
all the luxurious ease and indolence of home, had taken upon himself 
the soldier's vow, and dedicated his life to the dangerous service on which 
he was now about to enter. That boy was no other than William 
Henev IIaurison, the subject of the present sketch, the future Com- 
mander of our armies and the future President of the United States. 
The scion ofa noble stock, pointing for his pedigree to the imperisha- 
ble charter of our independence — a broader and a prouder patent 
than the hand of a crowned monarch ever gave — and numbering 
amongst his kindred many of the most distinguished men of the Revo- 
lution, but without any other patrimony than his own good sword, a 
finished education and an immortal name, he had just abandoned 
the study of a peaceful profession for which he had been carefully prc- 



pared, and was now on his way to seek his fortune in the western wil- 
derness. The ardor and determination which animated the boy niay 
b3 inferred from an anecdote which is relatedof him by one of his ear- 
Hcst biographers. He had just been despatched by his father to the 
city of Philadelphia, for the purpose of pursuing his studies under the 
direction of the best medical professors of the day, and had been placed 
by him under the immediate guardianship of the celebrated Robert 
Morris. The death of that parent which occurred whilst he was on 
his journey, and was soon after followed by the information that his 
estate had been greatly dilapidated by his services and sacrifices in the 
war of the Revolution, left him almost entirely without resource. But 
he was not without friends. The son of Benjamin Harrison could not 
want a friend where the compatriots of his father v/ere around him. 
A lucrative office in the Department of State was tendered to him by 
his kinsman Edmund Randolph, then acting Secretary, which he de- 
clined. His high spirit would not stoop to ent the bread of dependence ; 
his ambition was awakened, and his thoughts were now turned in an- 
other direction. He repaii-ed at once to the great chief who had been 
the friend of his father, and Avas now at the head of the Cxovernment, 
and solicited a commission in the north-western army. General 
Washington hesitated, referred to his extreme youth and drew an ani- 
mated picture of the hardships and dangers of the service which he was 
seeking. The ardor of the boy was not to be repressed ; the commis- 
sion was promised. The fact was however immediately communi- 
cated by Washington himself to Robert Morris, and no sooner known 
to the latter than a messenger was despatched at once in pursuit of his 
wayward ward, with an intimation that he desired to see him. Young 
Harrison suspecting the object, flew immediately to the War ofHce, 
took out his commission, subscribed the necessary oaths, and then ap- 
peared before his guardian, when he was assured that constraint and 
remonstrance would be alike unavailing. He was now the soldier of 
the Republic, and it was with that commission in his pocket that he 
had set out to join the north-western army. 

The hazards of that enterprize can scarcely be appreciated at the 
present day. At the period of which I speak the whole of that vast 
region west of the Ohio which now composes tlie great States of 
Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Missouri and Michigan, and comprises within 
its limits a population equal to that of the old thirteen during the war 
of the Revolution, was nothing but one vast, unbroken, howling 
wilderness, tenanted only by wild beasts or still wilder men, and 



8- 

sleeping in the universal silence which had brooded over it since the 
creation. From Pittsburg west, far, far beyond the mountain cradle 
of " the father of waters" — beyond even the sources of Missouri's 
mighty flood — throughout an untravelled and almost illimitable wild 
over which scarce any thing living, save the wing of the adventurous 
ea<Tle had ever swept — all was original, undisturbed, magnificent 
wilderness — the domain of nature — the dwelling-place of the savage. 
The beautiful Ohio whose bosom is now freighted with the commerce 
of thirteen States, whose waters are now ploughed by a thousand ani- 
mated keels instinct with elemental life, and whose margin is now dot- 
ted with hamlets and towns and cities, then travelled onward in its 
lono- and silent journey gathering the redundant tribute of its thou- 
sand rills, with no sound, no life to disturb its glassy repose, save the 
plash of the occasional canoe which darted across its surface, the rip- 
ple of the solitary pirogue which dropped lazily down its current — 
or mayhap the sharp report of the savage rifle from some sheltered 
covert on its banks which awoke its unaccustomed echoes, startled the 
wild fowl screaming from its bosom, and told the fate of sonic hapless 
adventurer who had embarked his fortune on its smooth but treacher- 
ous tide. The whole frontier extending eastward even into our own 
State was then the theatre of border war. Already one gallant army 
had perished in the vain attempt to hunt the ruthless red man back 
into his forest haunts. The savage tribes animated by their partial 
success, maddened by the encroachments of the white man, and stimu- 
lated into unusual ferocity by the largesses of Great Britain, were un- 
loosed from their forests and pouring down like wolves upon the settle- 
ments, while the thirsty tomahawk and the unsparing scalping knife 
were drinking deeply of the blood of our people. The whole frontier 
was in flames. At the dead hour of midnight the repose of the settler 
was broken by the appalling war whoop, and if he ventured from 
home during the day it was most probably to lind on his return that 
his dwelling was in ashes, and his hearth-stone red with the blood of 
his children. 

It was under such circumstances that William Henry Harrison 
first volunteered his life in the defence of the country. It was on 
such a field where so few laurels were to be gathered — it was on such 
a service from which the stoutest soldier might well have shrunk, that 
this gallantboy had just adventured. A second army had been despatch- 
ed to chastise the insolence of the savage, under General St. Clair, 
and it was for the purpose of enrolling himself under the banners of 



that commander that he was now hastening with all the ardor of a 
bridegroom in the direction of the Ohio. It was not however his for- 
tune to reach the place of his destination until a few days after the 
disastrous defeat which that officer had sustained near the Miami vil- 
lages. Instead therefore of a well appointed army full of hope and 
panting for the conflict, he was doomed to meet the shattered, bleeding 
and retreating remnant of a gallant host which had just left the bones 
of many a brave companion to bleach unburicd in the deep solitudes of 
the pathless wilderness. The destruction of this ill-fated band had 
cast a deeper shadow than ever over the fortunes of the west. For a 
young and ardent soldier the prospect was indeed gloomy beyond 
description. The maintenance and defence of a long line of posts 
had devolved upon the slender remains of this broken army. Again 
did the remonstrances of his friends assail the youthful Harrison. 
Again was he reminded of the toils and perils to which he was ex- 
posed, and again was he urged in the strong language of entreaty as 
well as expostulation, to abandon a service to which his slender franve 
and delicate constitution was supposed to be unequal. Nothing daunt- 
ed however by the appalling picture which was presented to him, and 
feeling that he had pledged his honor as well as his life to abide the 
issue, he turned a deaf ear alike to the suggestions of indolence and 
the importunities of friendship, and being soon after detailed upon a 
difficult and dangerous service, he acquitted himself with so much 
satisfaction as to receive the public thanks of his commander. In the 
year following he was promoted to the rank of a lieutenant. 

In the mean time, however, the war had assumed so formidable 
an aspect that it became necessary to take more decided and vigorous 
measures for its suppression. Anew army was ordered to be raised, 
and the discriminating eye of Gen. Washington at once singled out 
a distinguished officer of the Revolution — the Hero of Stony Point — 
the intrepid and impetuous Wayne, as the man best fitted to arrest the 
encroachments of the savage, and to carry theterror of our arms into 
his forest fastnesses. Nor was the sagacity of the President disap- 
pointed in the result. Dearly indeed did he avenge the disasters of 
Harmar and St. Clair — dearly indeed did he pay back the debt of 
blood which had been incurred on the frontier — so dearly that for 
many a long year the very name of Mad Anthony — as he was fami- 
liarly styled — was a terror throughout all the tribes of the north west. 
But he had an army to organize as well as to discipline. Most of the 
experienced officers who served under St. Clair had either fallen in 



10 

battle or surrendered their commissions, and no sooner had his eagle 
eye fallen upon our young subaltern, who joined him at Fort Wash- 
ington, (now Cincinnati,) in the month of June, 1793, than recognizing 
in him a spirit kindred to his own, lie grappled btm to his side, and 
raised him, at the age of twenty, to the honorable rank of his second 
Aid. In such a school he could not be long inactive. The army 
soon after marched in the direction of Greenville, where they were 
obliged to go into winter quarters, and on the opening of the campaign 
in the next following year, they roused the savage from his lair, and 
drove him before them until they brought him to bay on the 20th da)' 
of August, near the Rapids of the Miami. The contest was a fearful 
one, but the star of Mad Anthony was in the ascendant, and victory 
perched, as of old, upon his successful banner. The confederate 
tribes of Indians, rcinforced by their Canadian allies, and more than 
doubling in number the Irtile band of the American Commander reeled 
before the shock of his invincible battalions, and were driven with pro- 
digious slaughter under the very guns of a British fort which had 
been recently erected at that point. The gallantry and good con- 
duct of Lieutenant Hakkison, who had been entrusted with the diffi- 
cult and dangerous task of forming tlie left wing of tlie American 
force in that action were made the subject of the warmest commenda- 
tion in the despatches of his commander, and it is no small evidence 
of merit of the very highest order that the first virgin wreath which 
adorned his youthful brow was twined around it by the hands of a 
disciplinarian so stern and rigid as the unbiassed and uncompromising 
Wayne. Tl>c individual who now addresses you has heard a por- 
tion of the details of that eventful day from one who fell upon that 
bloody field pierced through the lungs by a musket ball, and still mi- 
raculously survived to bear his personal testimony to the unshrinking 
valor of his young comrade and companion in arms. He saw his 
lofty plume dancing along the front of the battle — he witnessed him 
hurrying from rank to rank cheering the faint and rallying those who 
wavered, and he heard the clear tones of his clarion voice ringing 
above the din of the battle, as he communicated in every direction 
the orders of his commander. J 

The victory of the Maumec humbled the savage tril^es, secured the 
surrender of the frontier posts, and terminated the war in the treaty of 
Greenville. Our young adventurer, then advanced to the rank of a 
Captain, was left by General VVayne in the command of Fort Wash- 
ington, where he remained until 1797, when finding that the country 



11 

no longer required his services in the capacity of a soldier, he resigned 
his commission in the army, and was immediately thereafter appoint- 
ed Secretary and ex-officio Lieutenant Governor of the North Wes- 
tern Territory. 

He was not, however, permitted to remain long in that position. — 
The admission of that Territory to a representation on the floor of 
Congress, was the signal for his translation to a different sphere. 
His extraordinary merits and great personal popularity indicated him 
at once to the people of that region as the individual who, above all 
others, was best qualified to represent their vast and varied interests, 
and in obedience to the general voice he took his seat in the year 1799 
as their first representative delegate in the councils of the nation. 

The period of his civil service was not less distinguished or success- 
ful than his career as a military man. He had already rendered the 
most important aid in conquering the fair realm with whose interests 
he was now intrusted from its native lord ; he was now about to per- 
fect his title to the gratitude of the West by conquering it once more 
from the wild dominion of nature herself by opening up a highway 
for the emigrant, and peopling its vast but unproductive solitudes with 
a great family of freemen. The policy of the General Government 
in regard to the public lands had been of such a character as to retard 
their settlement and growth by dividing them into tracts of three or four 
thousand acres only, and thus placing them beyond the reach of the 
poor but meritorious settlers. The first public act of their new 
Representative was the introduction of a Bill to effect a radical change 
of that system by reducing the amount to three hundred and twenty 
acres. The zeal and ability and eloquence of its advocate secured 
its passage, and the principle has been still further extended under 
subsequent administrations. Its results are before us in the teeming 
population and giant power of the yet infant West. Other conquerors 
have made a desert where they found a Paradise and erected their 
sceptres o'er unpeopled realms where the very verdure had already fled 
from the blasted and bloody heath before the dun hot breath of war. 
It was the boast of Atilla that no blade of grass ever grew beneath 
the fiery hoof of his war-horse. It is the glory of Harrison that his 
far-reaching sagacity has " made the solitary places glad," unfurled 
the standard of civilization in the wilderness, and founded an empire 
where he found a solitude. If his career had ended here, he would 
have been richly entitled to the eternal gratitude of the West. He 
has lived long enough to feel that it remembered the hand which had 



12 

nursed it into strength, and long enough to reign with undivided sway- 
over the hearts of its people- 

But his services did not end here. The division of the immense 
district which he represented and the erection of the new Territory 
of Indiana furnished a fresh occasion for the exhibition of that confi- 
dence which had placed him already in the Councils of the Nation. 
The choice of the Executive concurring with the wishes of the people 
again invested him with the high functions of a Territorial Governor. 
The region over which he was now called to preside, extending as it 
did at one time from the straits of Mackinaw to the Gulf of Mexico — 
from the frozen Lakes of the North to the orange groves of Ivouisiana, 
comprised a province such as no Roman Pra:;tor — no Lieutenant of 
the Cffisars, had ever governed in tlie proudest days of the Roman 
empire. The powers entrusted to his hands were almost equally un- 
limited. The highest attribute of sovereignty, the enactment of laws 
— the appointment of all officers and magistrates, military as well as 
civil — the supreme command of the militia — the distribution of his ex- 
tended jurisdiction into Counties and Townships, and the general su- 
perintendence of the affairs of the Indian Tribes who were restless 
and impatient of restraint, were but a few of the imperial prerogatives 
which v.-ere conferred on him. To all these vast powers were added 
by Mr. Jefferson the authority of a General Commissioner to treat 
with the Indian tribes, under which he negotiated not less than thir- 
teen important treaties, and effected the surrender of more than sixty 
millions of acres of land by its savage proprietors. The manner in 
which he executed this high trust, larger in many respects than any 
which had ever been delegated to any one man in this country, and 
therefore extremely susceptible of abuse, may be inferred from the 
fact that the commission which he professed to hold only under the 
will of the people, was renewed from time to time at their earnest and 
unanimous request by Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Madison, until it was 
merged at last in the command of the North Western Army. 

But he wielded no idle sceptre. He was the military as well as 
civil head of the Territory over which he presided, and he had a coun- 
try to defend as well as to govern. The vast region which had been 
committed to his charge was in a great measure a wilderness, with 
here and there only a white inhabitant, but swarming with the rem- 
nants of many a hostile tribe, smarting under the recollection of past 
conflicts and ever readyto wreak their implacable and undying hate 
upon the white man by carrying devastation and dismay into the set- 



13 

tlements. Nor was the border warrior less prompt in repairing such 
injuries whenever the opportunity occurred to him. The causes of 
irritation were frequent; the ancient and impressible feud between 
the red and white man flashed up into hostilities at every accidental 
collision, and if the incendiary torch descended upon his home the 
blood of the savage smoked as an expiatory offering over the embers 
of the white man's dwelling. To keep down these feuds and to afford 
full protection to the settler while he practised entire forbearance and 
uniform conciliation towards the savage, was the delicate and difficult 
task which was assigned to him by the General Government. He 
succeeded for a long time in holding the balance between them and 
preserving the peace of the settlements without forfeiting the confi- 
dence of either, and while he secured the affections of the pioneer, his 
kindness and impartiality propitiated the good will, while his firmness 
and courage overawed the turbulence and repressed the predatory 
habits of the Indian. 

But the long smothered fire industriously fed by the money and the 
emissaries of Great Britain, at length flamed out into an open rupture. 
The prospect of an impending outbreak with that country redoubled 
the activity of its agents, and the dark and portentous cloud of savage 
warfare began to gather and blacken on the Western horizon. The 
gigantic plan of a confederation of all the North Western tribes for 
the purpose of re-conquering the Territory which they had lost, was 
set on foot by a leader of great enterprize and sagacity and of un- 
common valor, in the person of the famous Shavvanese Chief— the 
renowned Tccumthe. With him was associated a brother of less 
ability but of no less distinction and of perhaps more commanding in- 
fluence, who was generally designated by the title of the Prophet, be- 
cause he was so esteemed throughout all the tribes. Under the aus- 
pices of these two men the scattered elements of discontent and mis- 
chief were gathered together at a place of common rendevouz on the 
Wabash, near the mouth of the Tippecanoe and known afterwards 
by the name of the Prophet's town. 

But the wary eye of the Governor was upon them, and at the first 
symptom of threatened disturbance arising out of the Treaty which 
he had negotiated at Fort Wayne with several of the tribes, in the 
absence of Tec^mthe himself, he despatched a messenger to invite 
him to a conference. The Chieft^ain came, not unattended as was 
agreed, but with a formidable escort of no less than four hundred 
armed warriors in his train. The meaning of such an attendance 



14 

could not be mistaken. But the Governor was not to be intimidated. 
He met the savage chief and listened with calmness to his complaint. 
No soonerhowever had he replied than Tecumthc for all answer fiercely 
ejaculated, " it is false," and on the instant, as though by some precon- 
certed signal, his followers started to their feet and brandished their 
war-ckibs while he continued to address them in their own language 
with great rapidity of enunciation and equal violence of gesture. — 
The crisis was a fearful one, but the self-possession and intrepidity of 
the Governor were fully equal to the occasion. Though unattended 
but by a handiul of guards he rose with dignity from his seat — coolly 
drew his sword— rebuked the perfidy of the Indian, and ordered him 
to withdraw at once from the settlements. The conference was bro- 
ken up in confusion, and the savages, overawed by the gallant bear- 
ing and manly determination of the Governor, withdrew without fur- 
ther disturbance. On the following morning Tecumthe apologized 
for the affront, and solicited a renewal of the conference, which was 
granted. It took place, but without any favorable result, and a few 
days after its termination, the Governor still anxious to conciliate the 
powerful Chief, repaired in person to his camp attended only by a 
single interpreter. The savage was surprised ; be could not but res- 
pect the courage of his enemy, and he received him with kindness and 
courtesy, though without receding from the determination %vhich he 
had previously announced, of disregarding the treaty and maintaining 
his ancient boundary. The story sheds so strong a light upon the 
character of Harrison that I have felt it to be my duty to give it a 
place in the present narrative. 

In the meantime, however, the breath of the coming tempest which 
had been so long gathering in the horizon, began to agitate the leaves 
of the forest, and the low muttering of (he distant thunder to be heard 
in the settlements. The war-belt — the fiery cross of the red man — 
was passing through the wilderness, and in obedience to its summons 
the warriors of the wilds were thronging to the standard of the Shaw- 
anese Chiefs. The indications were now so apparent of a grcat pre- 
concerted movement and a general rising among the tribes, that the 
Governor of Indiana, whose sagacity on such occasions was never at 
fault, admonished of the necessity of taking early and vigorous mea- 
sures for the suppression of the evil, was induced to seek, and obtain- 
ed permission from the General Government, to break up the encamp- 
ment on the Wabash, which was the general rallying point of the dis- 
afiected, and where it was understood that more than a thousand 



15 

warriors v/ere already collected and under arms. With a force of 
about nine hundred men composed of the militia of his Territory, a 
detachment of regular troops and a small but gallant band of Kentucky 
volunteers, but with his hands tied by a positive instruction to avoid 
hostilities, except in tlie last resort, he accordingly commenced his 
fnarch on the 20th of October, 1811. His commission was exceed- 
ingly delicate and difficult. His mission was peace ; his only privilege 
in the face or a savage enemy who might select his own time and 
place for an attack, was the humble privilege of self-defence when- 
ever he might be assailed. When he arrived within a few miles of 
the Prophet's town, he sent in a flag of truce in pursuance of his in- 
structions, for the purpose of opening a negotiation for a treaty of 
peace. The answer of the Prophet was friendly. He disclaimed all 
hostile intention, and pledged himself to meet his adversary in coun- 
cil on the following day. But Governor Harrison understood the 
Indian character too well to be thrown off his guard by protestations 
such as these. He accordingly halted and placed his camp in a pos- 
ture of defence. 

The night of the 6th of November was dark and cloudy. On that 
memorable night a gallant litlae band might have been seen stretched 
in fitful and uneasy slumber, by their watch-fires near the Wabash, 
under the shadow of the ancient but now leafless oaks which reared 
their giant heads around. Here in the oi-der of battle, and with his 
arms and accouti-ements by his side, lay the wearied foot-soldier with 
his head pillowed upon his knapsack, there the border knight endued 
in all the panoply of war reclined at the feet of his faithful steed, and 
yonder tethered to the door post of an humble tent pawed the impa- 
tient charger of the Chief himself. The deep solitude of the forest 
which was so lately startled by the armed array had again subsided 
into repose. No sound disturbed the quiet save the sighing of the 
autumnal wind as it swept through the anns of the aged oaks which 
canopied their heads, or the occasional challenge of the sentinel as he 
measured his midnight rounds. On a sudden, about the hour of four 
in the morning, and just when the tap of the morning drum was about 
to arouse the sleepers from their repose, a single shot was heard, and 
on the instant the yell of a thousand savages rent the quiet air, and 
the flash of a thousand rifles lighted up the deep gloom of the primeval 
forest. The onset was no less terrible than sudden. The savages 
were in their midst, but every soldier was in his place, and the assail- 
ant and assdled were soon locked in the embrace of death. In the 



1$ 

{winkling of an eye the watchful Governor, who had been sitting by 
his tent-fire conversing with his Aids and wailing the approach of 
dawn, was on horseback and at the point of danger, and throughout 
the whole of that action was he seen, himself the most exposed of all, 
gallopping from point to point wherever the contest waxed fiercest, 
fortifying the positions where the fire was most destructive, and ani- 
mating his troops by his voice as well as by his example. And nobly 
was he seconded by his gallant men. For two long hours did the 
contest rage, for the most part hand to hand, throughout the gloom, 
until the dawn of the morning lighted up that field of blood, and ena- 
bled the American Commander, by one simultaneous charge along 
his whole line, to put the enemy to flight. 

The history of our coujitry has furnished the example of few fields 
which have been as stoutly contested as this, and it has been remark' 
ed by those who were familiar witli the practice of Indian w arfare that 
on no other occasion has the savage been known to exhibit the same 
degree of determined and desperate and persevering valor. The 
slaughter on both sides was considerable. Many of the bravest of 
our officers fell. That General Harriso:* himself should have es- 
caped is almost a miracle. He was slightly wounded by a ball which 
passed through the rim of his hat, but he bore, like Washington, a 
charmed life, because like him, Jie was destined for higher purposes. 

The result of this action was decisive. The confederacy of the 
liostile tribes was dissolved by the disasters of this day, and peace 
and quiet were once more restored to the alarmed frontier. The in- 
valuable services of Governor Harrisox were recognized in the most 
flattering terms by President Madison in his next annual message to 
Congress, and liis skill and heroism were made the theme of special 
panegyric by the Legislatures of Kentucky and Indiana by whom he 
was publicly thanked in the nanux of their respective constituents. 

The tranquility which followed was however of short duration. In 
less than one year after the battle of Tippecanoe, the long threatened 
war with Great Britain took place. The tribesof the north-west were 
again in arms straining like greyhounds in the slips, and waiting but 
the signal of their civilized employers to carry havoc and devastation 
once more into the settlements. The whole frontier was almost en- 
tirely defenceless. With tlie fall of Detroit which was soon after in- 
vested by the British, no barrier would be left to stem the torrent of 
barbarian war, except the stout Jtearts and strong arms of the inhabit- 
ants. They were however ready, as they have ever been, for the 



17 

emergency. All they desired was a leader of approved courage and 
undoubted skill, and every eye was turned at once upon the successful 
soldier who had so recently humbled the pride, and broken ihe power 
of the Indian upon the Wabash. The chivalry of Kentucky was first 
upon its feet. Upwards of five thousand of her citizens were already 
in arms, and the Governor of that State invited him to a conference 
in relation to the disposal of the troops which she was about raising 
for the defence of the country. He repaired to Frankfort in pursu-. 
ance of the invitation, and was received there with more than a sol- 
dier's welcome. But higher honors were yet in reserve for him. The 
volunteers of Kentucky were under the command of her ablest citi- 
zens ; two thousand of them were ordered at once for the relief of 
Detroit, but no sooner was their destination announced than they with 
one consent declared their earnest desire to be placed under the com- 
mand of Hakhison. The wishes of the people corresponded with the 
sentiments of the soldiery. But the laws of Kentucky forbade the 
appointment of any other than one of her own citizens to so exalted a 
trust. In this dilemma the Executive consulted with the most dis- 
^iiguished men of the State, and by their unanimous advice he disre- 
garded the prohibition, and conferred upon Goverjjor Haerrison the 
brevet rank of a Major General in the Kentucky Militia, with express 
authority to take the command of her troops who were destined for 
the frontier. 

In the very midst of all tfeese preparations the intelligence of the 
dastardly surrender of Huli sod the Mi <*f D<3troit descended like a 
thunderbolt upon the people of the west, and spread consternation and 
dismay through all their borders. But the re-appearance of the heroic 
Governor of Indiana at the head of the Kentucky levies, restored the 
public confidence at once. The intelligefice of his appointment to the. 
chief command thrilled like the electric spark aloag the whole line of 
the frontier. The hardy settler on the upper Oliio sprung to hb arms,' 
the men of " the Bloody Grouud" came up in thousaflds to the «taRd- 
ard of their favorite Chief, and even the dweJlers beyond our own 
.mountains, the yeomanry of Westei-aa Peniiisylvania, acknowledging 
"flie generous impulse and fired by the common enthusiasm which per- 
vaded the whole West, abandoned tlieir ploughs in the furrow, and 
snatched down their rifles from the wall. The arrival of General 
Hakrison was <weieamed with shojits of applause by the volunteer* 
assembled in the State of Ohio. The President of the United States 
had in the meantime, without the knowledge of what had transpired 

2 



18 

irfthe West, bestowed the chief command on General Winchester, an 
officer who had gathered experience and distinction in the war of the 
Revolution, and invested General Harrison with the rank of a Briga- 
dier, but the judgment of the people reversed the decision of the Presi- 
dent, and in conformity with the unanimous wishes of the army, who 
werc only rcconciled to the change by the assurance that it would be 
of brief duration, he raised the defender of the frontier at once to the 
highly honorable but most arduous trust of Commander-in-Chief of 
the North-western army. 

But bis was no holiday distinction. To him the triple duty was as- 
signed of defending a long line of frontier, of retaking Detroit, and of 
carrying the war into the province of Upper Canada. To accom- 
plish all this, he liad a force at his disposal of about ten tliousand 
men. But they were raw and inexperienced, unaccustomed to- 
habits of obedience or to the discipline of a camp, enlisted generally 
for short terms of service, and governable only by the personal influ- 
ence of their commander. He was morcover without military stores 
or munitions of war, without magazines or depots or fortified posts, 
and thus ill-provided, with these slender and unequal means, he was 
expected to traverse an almost impassable wilderness, and to encounter 
in the wily savage and the well-trained veteran a combination of force 
soch as IK) o<her American General had perhaps ever met. But he 
accomplished it all, and to the astonishment and admiration of the 
whole country, he achieved this great work in the incredibly short 
space of some thirteen months, driving the invader from our soil, pur- 
sutng and overthrowing him on his own territory, and planting the 
triumphant banner of his country over the lion standard of England 
upon the field of the Thames. 

In the pursuit of this object he laid down his plan of operations on 
a iKise line extending from Upper Sandusky to Fort Defiance, with a 
comraan point o£ concentration at the Rapids of the Miami of the 
Lakes, and distributing his army into three divisions, the right of 
which consisting of the Virginia and Pennsylvania troops, was com- 
manded by himself in i>erson, he directed a simultaneous movement 
upon that point. By the last of .January, through incredible hardships, 
and after most imexampled toil this first important step was accom- 
plished and a general junction eflected at the desired place. The 
army then went into winter quarters, the position was strongly forti- 
fied, and the name assigned to it of Camp Meigs, in honor of the Gov- 
ernor of Ohio. It was destined to become the theatre of one of the 



19 

most, brilliant events of the war, and if it has not received that dis* 
tinction which it deserved it is only because it paled before the supe- 
rior lustre of the events which followed. 

The seige of Fort Meigs is familiar to you all. There are some 
within the hearing of my voice who were there, and if there be one 
amongst them who can think of the kindness and the courage of his old 
commander now without feeling the blended emotions of pride and af- 
fection swelling from his heart and dimming his eye, I have yet to 
meet with him. 1 will not therefore fatigue you with details. On the 
27th of April the British General Proctor sat down before that posi- 
tion with a large force of regulars and Indians amounting to several 
thousand men, and after opening on it a tremendous fire from three 
several batteries erected for that purpose, sent in a flag to demand its 
surrender as the only means of saving the garrison from the toma- 
hawk and scalping knife. The reply of General Harrison was char- 
acteristic : " Tell General Proctor that this fort will never surrender 
to him on any terms. If it should fall into his hands it will be in 
such a manner as will do him more honor and give him larger claims 
upon the gratitude of his government than any capitulation." The bat- 
teries of the enemy were carried by a well directed and brilliant sortie, 
and the British General despairing of success broke up his camp and 
retreated in confusion and disgrace in the direction of Maiden. Again 
however did he renew the attempt with a still stronger force, but again 
was he obliged to abandon it in despair and take refuge beyond the 
border. But there was no safety for him there. The indefatigable 
HAnRiso:x, with his brave frontiersmen incensed at the barbarities of 
the savage Proctor and thirsting for revenge, was on his bloody ti*ail. 
With the zealous co-operation of the gallant Perry, who had just 
achieved, with the assistance of Harrison, his memorable victory on 
the lake, he embarked his troops, landed them on the Canadian shore, 
encamped on the ruins of Maiden, and pursued and overtook and 
captured his flying enemy on the banks of the Thames. Of the de- 
tails of that action I have not leisure to speak. Its result was not less 
important than honorable to the American arms. It annihilated the 
British force in Upper Canada, dissolved in the blood of Tecumthe the 
alliance with the Indian tribes, and wound up the war in a blaze of 
glory along the whole North Western frontier. Nor did it fail to be 
properly appreciated by the people. The intelligence of this great 
victory sped like lightning over the whole land. The sound of rejoie- 
jxig was heard on every side. Our cities blazed with bonfires and 



20 

illuminations — from town and tower the bells rang many a merry 
peal — the path of the conquerror in the direction of the seat of gov- 
ernment was a career of triumph — the victory of Harrisoji was pro- 
nounced on the floor of Congress to be such an one as " would have 
secured to a Roman general in the best days of the Republic the hon- 
ors of a triumph" — "the blessings of the thousands of women and 
children rescued from the scalping knife of the ruthless savage of 
the wilderness and from the still more savage Proctor," were invoked 
upon his head by the Governor of our own State, in these very halls, 
and the solemn thanks of the Nation were awarded to him by the 
Nation's Representatives. 

With all these honors clustered round his brow, the laurelled Chief 
returned to Cincinnati in January, 1814, to resume the command of his 
appropriate District, If the judgment of the public had been consulted, 
it would have assigned to him a higher and more honorable destina- 
tion. The western horizon, thanks to his heroic efforts and sacri- 
fices, was now clear, and there was no further employment there for 
such a man as Harrison. But the war was still raging in the North, 
and much and deep solicitude was felt amongst the officers and soldiers 
there that the chief command, which he had so richly earned, should 
be bestowed on him. The gallant Perry, who had served as a volun- 
teer aid by the side of Harrison at the battle of the Thames, in a 
letter written to him about that period, says, " You know what has 
been my opinion as to the future Commander-in-Chief of the army. 
I pride myself not a little in seeing my prediction so near being veri- 
fied ; yes, my dear friend, I expect to hail you as the Chief who is 
to redeem the honor of our arms in the North." General M'Arthur, 
another of his fellow-soldiers, who had served long under his com- 
mand, in another letter of the same date, written from Albany, de- 
clares " You, sir, stand the highest with the militia of this State of 
any General in the service. 1 am confident that no man can fight 
them to so great an advantage, and I think their extreme solicitude 
may be the means of calling you to this frontier." The veteran 
Shelby, a relic of the Revolution, who had fought in some of its 
bloodiest fields, and had finished his brilliant career of service under 
Harrison himself at the Thames, in a letter addressed to President 
Madison a short time afterwards expresses the same opinion in much 
stronger language. " A rumor," he says, " has reached this State 
that the Commanding General of the Northern army may be removed. 
The circumstance has induced me to reflect on the subject, and give 



21 

a decided preference to Major General Harrison as a successor.— 
Having served a campaign with General [Iarrison, by which I have 
been enabled to form some opinion of his military talents and capa- 
city to command, 1 feel no hesitation in declaring to you that I believe 
him to be one of the first military characters I ever knew, and in ad- 
dition to this he is capable of making greater personal exertions than 
any other officer with whom I have ever served. I doubt not but it 
will hereafter be found that the command of the North Western army, 
and the various duties attached to it has been one of the most ardu- 
ous and difficult tasks ever assigned to any officer in the United States. 
Yet he surmounted them all. Impressed with the conviction that Gen- 
eral Harrison is fully equal to the command of the Northern army, 
should a change take place in that division, I have ventured thus 
freely to state my opinion of him, that he is a consummate General, 
and w«!)uld fill that station with ability and honor ; and that if on the 
other hand, any arrangement should take place in the War Depart- 
ment which may produce the resignation of General Harrison, it 
will be a misfortune which our country will have cause to lament. — 
His appointment to the command of the Northern army would be 
highly gratifying to the wishes of the Western people." Such was 
thevoluntary testimony of a soldier who had fought under such Gene- 
rals as Gates and Marion and Greene. 

But the Secretary of War had other views. Gen. Harrison had 
offendsd him, and in return he was destined for inactive service as the 
fruit of all his toils. With the quick sensibilities of a soldier he had 
remonstrated with great warmth against the withdrawal of General 
Howard from his command, as an invasion of the prerogatives of his 
rank and station as the Commander of a Military District, declaring 
at the same time that " apart from the consideration of his duty to the 
country, he had no other inducement to remain in the army, and that 
if those prerogatives were taken from him he could render no impor- 
tant service, and would much rather be permitted to retire to private 
life." Another interference of the like character with the internal 
police of his district in an order issued directly to Major Holmes, one 
of his subordinate officers, in violation of all military propriety, joined 
to the persuasion that he was destined to rust in inglorious repose, de- 
termined him r i once, and he threw up his commission, assigning as 
a reason therefor in a letter of the same date addressed to the Presi- 
dent himself, that he could hold it no longer with a proper regard to 
his own feelings or honor. It was accepted by the Secretary in the 



Q2 

absence of the Pi'esident and veiy much lo his regret, and thus the 
nation was deprived of the military services of the only General who 
had then shed lustre on its arms, 

But those services were too valuable to be dispensed with altogether. 
The President of the United States seised upon the earliest occasion 
which presented itself to testify his unabated confidence in the West- 
ern Chief by appointing him during the same summer, in conjunction 
with Governor Shelby and General Cass, to negotiate a treaty with the 
Indians at Greenville, and in the next following year he was placed at 
the head of another commission of the like character arising out of 
the final termination of the war with Great Biitain. In both instances 
he acquitted himself with the same signal credit which had attended 
all his diplomatic efibrts in that direction. 

His long period of public service in the employment of the General 
Government having now ended with the return of peace. General 
Harrison retired to his farm on the Ohio for the purpose of devoting 
himself to the pursuits of private life, and repairing those losses 
which had resulted from his patient and uninterrupted devotion to the 
service of the country. But he was not long permitted to enjoy the 
quiet or repose which he sought. The public voice again assigned to 
him a place in Congress where he remained until the year 1819, when 
lie was elected lo the Senate of the State of Ohio, from which he was 
translated in the year 1824 to a seat in the Senate of the United States 
as one of the Representatives of the giant State which had sent him 
in its infancy to the public councils in the humble capacity of its first 
terrilorial delegate. Of bis services there, it would be impossible to dis- 
course at large within the brief space which is allowed me. It is 
enough to say that they were entirely worthy of his ancient fame — his 
large experience, his cultivated understanding, and his remarkable 
readiness and power as a debater placing him at once in a command- 
ing position in that august assembly. 

In the latter part of the war, 1828, he received from Mr. Adams the 
appointment of Minister Plenipotentiary to the Republic of Colombia, 
from which post he was recalled early in the following year without 
the opportunity of distinguishing his mission by any other incident 
than the publication of his celebrated ktlcr to Bolivar. On his return he 
repaired again to his humble but beaut i fid retreat on the Ohio, where 
he continued to enjoy that repose which was so necessary to his toil- 
worn frame, until the voice of the nation again summoned him from his 
retirement to preside over the destinies of this great empire. 



^3 

The rest of the story is soon told. He obeyed the summons : the 
West surrendered its Chief into the arms of the Republic, and already 
he sleeps with his fathers, and a sorrowing nation weeps over his tomb- 
He has gone down, he, the sorvivor of so many conflicts, who has so 
often rklden unharmed on the fiery breath of the battle field, has gone 
down, not in the shock of contending armies — not amid the thunders 
of the fight, but rather like some ancient oak which has breasted tlie 
tempest for a thousand years and then falls in the stillness and solitude 
of the forest with all its branching honors about its head. If the 
hopes and prayers of a great people could have averted the impend- 
ing blow, it would not have fallen. But the approaches of the de- 
stroyer had no terrors for him. He had already encountered him in 
a thousand forms. No unseemly struggle — no shrinking of the flesh 
— no darkeningof the spirit characterized the final rupture of that tie 
which wedded tite immortal occupant to the frail tenement which it 
had anittsated and illuminated for nearly seventy y^irs. It went 
down like a tranquil sunset, and as it was shedding its last parting 
rays upon the mansion which it had so long inhabited, it flashed for a 
moment upward, cleared the film from the darkening eye, and showed 
that the last thoughts of the jxitriot were turned upon his country. " I 
wish you to understand the true principles of this government, I 
wish them carried out. I ask nothing more," It was his dying 
tastament to his successor. May it be executed in the spirit in which 
. it was delivered i 

Having thus accompanied the illustrious man whose loss we so 
<leeply lament down to the last closing scene of a long and eventful 
life, it only remains to gather from the varied picture which that life 
presents, a few of the leading traits which mark the individual, and 
added to his public services, assist in distinguishing him from his 
compeers, and taking him out of the roll of ordinary men. 

Of the character of General Harrisox as a military man it will 
be scarcely necessary to speak. The judgment of his contemporaries 
is already before you, and there is no appeal but to that august tribu- 
nal which will pronounce its decision through the voice of impartial 
history. If however success is to be regarded as the true criterion of 
ability in this kind, that voice must assign to him a high rank 
amongst our military commanders. To him belongs the distinguished 
merit of being one of the very few leaders who during a long period 
of service have borne the flag of our country in triumph over many 
a field, and never suffered it to bow in dishonor in one. It has been 



24 

puhVidy remarked of him, by one who was a gallant and successful 
soldier himself, that « he had been longer in active service, than any 
olhet general (officer— was perhaps oftenerin action than any of themy 
and had never sustained a defeat." But if results are to be compared 
with means, how transcendant must his merit appear ! He had armies 
to create, to organize and to supply— of materials which were ever' 
changing, and of men who were not habituated to obedience. The 
men whom he cammancled were no Jiireling soldiery, no mercenaries 
whose Wood could be measured and weighed and counted otrt into 
drachms. They were rnen like ourselves, of all trades and professions, 
who had taken uparms in defence of their homesand their firesides, their 
wives and their children. They constituted moreover the only defence of 
the frontier and their lives were Bot to be thrown away on calculation, 
or the safety of that frontier jeoparded by a general action at any dis- 
advantage. To General Harbisoi? it was not permitted as to Napo- 
leon, to win his victories or cover biniself with laurels at the rate of 
ten thousand men a day. It was incumbent on him to accommodate 
himself to circums-tanccs, to husband carefully bis resources — to be 
on all occasions wary, circumspect and prudent, ai>d to adopt that Fa- 
bian policy which had conducted us so triumphantly through the war 
of the revolution, and which won for him the exalted title of " the Wash- 
ington of the West," In his personal character too were most admi- 
?ably blended all those elements which by their well tempered and 
Judicious intermixture constitute the high talent of military command.* 
A happy i-nixture of caution and courage — remarkable coolness and 
«eIf-posession in danger — an inexhaustible fertility of resources — great 
decision of character — -high powers of combination and equally high 
powers of physical endurance, together with a kindness of heart and 
manners which secured the afTecfions of his soldiery to such an extent 
that, in the language of a historian of the late war, " his men would 
have fought better and suffered more with him, than with any other 
General in America," were among his leading qualities. To these also 
^fjd jt,9 Jje added an ardent love for his profession, and an assiduous 
.^evotio^ i<f ii}Q ^;tudy of military science which distinguished him 
,even in his no,yiciat,c m ^.yms. But he could scarcely be considered a 
.goldier by professipn. j[t ^v'as o/)ly when the country required a defen- 
^er that J^e j^as iijdj^ced to taloj the fiel(*, ;jpd when the exigency was 
pyer he inyariubly returned again to the walks pf civil life. 

^01- were his oxGdHencios less Gonspicuous there. As a statesman 
he occupied a high rank in the councils of the natiof), YVith a ready 



25 

eloquence which was never at fault, and a voice ofgi'eat cortipass and 
power, joined to a lively imagination and the rich and varied stores of 
a well cultivated and well regulated mind, he never spoke without com- 
manding the attention of his audience, and never failed to make an 
impression wherever he was heard, and he has left behind hinl some 
memorials of his ability which are among the finest specimens of in- 
tellectual effort which embellish the Register of our Congressional 
Debates. General Harrison was a natural orator. With him it 
Was an original gift. His lip was touched with the living fire which 
art may improve but no study can ever impart. Endowed, like 
some of the Athenian Generals, with a ready faculty oC communi- 
cating his ideas and remarkable powers of language and illustration, 
his thoughts flowed smoothly and freely and strongly and without 
effort or constraint. He was perhaps the only one of our military 
commanders who has indulged in the practice of oral addresses to his 
troops, and if any evidence were wanting of the effect of his oratory 
It might be found in many instances throughout his military career. 
His suppression of a mutiny amongst the Kentucky levies at Fort 
Wayne, is one of the most remarkable. His sudden appearance 
among the excited soldiery, his strong, affectionate, impressive and 
eloquent appeal to the pride and patriotism of the Kentucky troops, 
and the immediate return of those brave men to their duty, compose 
one of the most striking pictures of the effects of popular eloquence 
which can be found on record. 

Nor was he less distinguished as a writer. His general orders and 
his despatches, written as they were without premeditation and fre- 
quently upon a drum-head, are among the clearest and most forci- 
ble which have ever emanated from any of our Commanders, and his 
occasional papers, among which may be enumerated his Report on 
the Militia — his disquisition on the Aborigines of the Valley of the Ohio 
— his Lectures on Agriculture and his famous letter to Bolivar, are 
so elegant in diction, so replete with classical allusion, and so rich 
in rhetorical beauty that they would do honor to any man in the 
country. 

But there is more in the character of this distinguished man than 
perhaps history will ever chronicle, or any other than the faithful pen 
of biography will ever pourtray. It was a sentiment of his own that 
" the successful warrior is no longer regarded as entitled to the first 
• place in the temple of famCj and that to be esteemed eminently great 
it is necessary to be eminently good." And well may he submit his 



26 

reputation beyond the grave to that high ordeal wliicli he has liimselT 
prescribctl. It will impair none of his titles to the distinction which 
has been bestowed on him by his countrymen. He will pass through 
it not merely unharmed, but purilied, exalted and ennobled — sur» 
rounded with a bright halo of moral beauty which will throw all his 
laurels as a warrior into the shade. If he was without fear as a sol- 
dier, he was without reproach as a citizen. If his high qualities and 
successful career as a General entitled him to be styled "the Washing- 
ton of the West," tjie resemblance did not end there. His private 
character, like VVashington's, was without spot or blemish. Like him 
.he was in all his relations, kind, generous and humane, with the integ- 
rity of a Fabricius, and a " chastity of honor" which would have been 
worthy of a Bayard. In war lie was a very minister of mercy. He 
suffered no harsh or ignoniinious punishments to be inflicted on his 
troops. His argument was reason — his chastisement reproof. He 
pardonned them when they erred, and he taught them to be merciful 
like himself even in their collisions with the enemy. " Let an account 
of murdered innocence be opened in the records of Heaven against 
our enemies alone. The American soldier will follow the example of 
his government, and the sword of the one will not be raised against 
the fallen and hcljjlcss, nor the gold of the other be paid for the scalps 
of a massacred enemy." " Kentuckians ! Remember the River 
Raisin ; but remember it only while the victory is suspended. The 
revenge of a soldier cannot be gratified on a fallen enemy." Such 
was the sublime and eloquent language of his addresses to his soldiery 
after the affair of the Massissinniway and before the battle of the 
Thames. In the fir.st he was thanking his brave Pennsylvania volun- 
teers for their humanity : in the second he was stimulating the country- 
men of those who were slaughtered in cold blood at the River Raisin 
to a lively but a generous recollection of their wrongs. How noble • 
How exalted ! How far do such sentiments place him above the level of 
the mere vulgar Hero, and how beautifully did his own conduct cor- 
respond ! When he passed over into Canada in the month of Octo- 
ber at the head of his conquering legions, he carried with him no 
other covering than a blanket strung at his saddle bow, but instead of 
retaliating the barbarities of the bloody Proctor, it is related of him 
that he generously parted with even that blanket to relieve the sufler- 
ings of a wounded British ollicer, on the very night after the battle of 
the Thames. 

His magnanimity was not less conspicuous than his humanity. — 



27 

On the only occasion wlierein his integrity was ever questioned, after 
vindicating his honor by an action in which the most exemphiry dann- 
ages were awarded to him, he bestowed one-third of the amount on 
the orphan children of his fellow-soldiers who had fallen in battle, 
and remitted the remainder to the very individual who had injured 
him. He was capable even of pardoning the assassin who had hired 
his steel to strike at his own life on the eve of his engagement on the 
Wabash. No vindictive feeling ever found a habitation in his bosom. 
No stormy passion ever tossed it into wrath. Tt was the dwelling- 
place of none but the gentle affections. He treasured up no dark re- 
membrance of wrong : he carried with him into his high office no 
feelings of personal unkindness even toward those who had warred 
most bitterly against him, and the universal sorrow which now over- 
spreads this land furnishes the highest assurance that he who knew 
no hate — no feeling which a man might blush to own, has died, as he 
deserved, without an enemy. 

But who shall tell of the many private virtues which surrounded 
and sanctified his fire side? Who shall relate the noble deeds of 
charity which ditlused their influence around his hospitable home? — 
There is no record kept on earth of the sorrows oi^ the humble, and 
none which can disclose the quiet and unpretending ministry whicii 
relieves the wants of the distressed; but well did tlie unfortunate know 
the heart which was ever alive to the appeals of sufi'ering and the hand 
which was ever open to the cry of distress. The tales which have 
been told in illustration of this beautiful trait in the character of Gene- 
ral Harrisot".-, are many of them so unlike any thing which we have 
been accustomed to see around us, as to have been regarded by many 
as mere fables. Incredible however as they may have seemed, some 
of the most incredible were true. That the same may be said of most 
of them I verily believe, and so too will those who remember that one 
of the very last acts of his life was an act of the purest and noblest 
charity to'-^ards a poor seaman with whom accident alone had made 
him acquainted. 

If he had any fault it was his exceeding generosity, his unparal- 
leled disinterestedness, his utter disregard of self. As Superintendent 
of Indian Affairs he declined the perquisites which had been usual in 
that office. For iiis important services on the Wabash, he neither 
asked nor received compensation. As Commander-in-Chief of the 
army the deficiency of his pay arising from his liberal hospitality and 
his private charity was supplied out of his own private resources, and 



28 

a Ooitlnlittdd of Congfess in 1817, bore honorable testimony to the 
fact that his private fortune had suffered very materially from his de- 
votion to the public intereatB. Fof reasons such as these and with op- 
portunities of amassing wealth such as few men in this country have 
ever enjoyed, which he refused to improve, because he was a public 
officer, he has died poor-^not in the gratitude of his countrymen — but 
poor in worldly wealth, and the Republic which so lately received him 
from the arms of his family has returned nothing but his ashes to 
those who looked up to him for protection. While the nation mourns, 
there is one — the bereaved — the companion of his early manhood and 
the witness of his recent fame, who heeds not the voice of eulogy or 
the funeral pomp, but weeps, as did Rachael of old, in solitude by the 
waters of the Ohio. The nation cannot return to her what it received; 
it cannot re-animate the generous and affectionate heart which is now 
cold; but it can throw its sheltering arms over the head of the afflict- 
ed, and shall it not out of its abundance relieve the lone and discon- 
solate one — the partner of him who has served it so long and so well — 
in the hour of her darkness and tribulation ? If Harrison had lived 
and she had been the relict of another who had served and died like 
him, he would have been the first himself to have appealed in her be- 
half to the generous sympathies of the nation. 

But 1 can dwell no longer upon this attractive theme. All these 
high qualities — all these rich endowments — all these manly and enno- 
bling virtues have perished with the manly heart around which they 
were so richly clustered. Harrison is no longer among the living; 
his name now belongs to history. He has taken his place in the Na- 
tional Pahtheon ; he is enrolled in the list of the illustrious dead. — 
Another of the remaining links which still connect us with the heroic 
age of the Revolution is sundered. The father and the son — the signer 
of the immortal declaration, and his still more illustrious offspring 
now stand side by side. The fame of the younger like that of the 
elder Harrison, is now one of the family jewels of the country. But 
it lives not merely in the reco.-ds of the past; it still lingers in the af- 
fections and memories of the living. And so it does now, and so it 
will continue to linger in the hearts of those who hear me. I recog- 
nize no exception. I fear not the intrusion of any unkind recollection, 
any unhallowed or irreverent thought into a scene like this. The 
father of our Republic is no more, and we his children, are assembled 
round the funeral urn to gaze for the last time upon the pallid and 
death-smitten features of him who has but just departed. It is not 



29 

Harrison the candidate — it is Harrison the President — it is the 
Commander of our armies — it is the young Ensign of Maumee — it is 
the soldier of Tippecanoe — it is the conqueror at the Thames — and 
ive, we are Americans who now do honor to his memory. It is a na- 
tion which mourns — it is the chief of a mighty people who has falfen. 
The deep and pure and beautiful fountain of American feeling has 
welled up at the general shock of this great calamity, and the grand 
moral spectacle is now exhibited of a whole people in tears. VVho 
would not die so to be lamented and so to live hereafter? The loss is 
not his who has been thus embalmed, but ours. The Providence 
which has afflicted us has not been unkind to him. He has been 
reserved for the enjoyment of the highest honors of the Republic, as 
though it had been merely to secure to him a niche in that immortal 
gallery which belongs to our canonized dead, and he has been re- 
moved from the labors and responsibilities of his high station with no 
hope disappointed, no confidence impaired, but with the first flush of 
the popular honors, the high, the crowning reward of a long life of 
public service yet lingering freshly on his brow. The gift which you 
have conferred on him was but the passport to all time. The Repub- 
lic has lost a President — but Harrison is immortal. 

To us, however, who remain, the fruits of this visitation may not 
be unwholesome. The calamity which we deplore is one which has 
been reserved for the present generation. The hand of Providence 
has never fallen upon us as a people thus heavily before. The great 
and good men who have successively been called to preside over the 
affairs of this Republic have, with only two or three exceptions, re- 
turned to their kindred dust, but the death of a President of these 
United States at any period of the administration of his high trust, is a 
circumstance which has no precedent in our history as a nation. It 
does not, however, become us to murmur or repine. We may lament 
over our national as it is permitted to us over our domestic bereave- 
ments, because a reasonable grief is not inconsistent with a due sub- 
mission to the will of Him who blesses while he afflicts, but it is not 
for us to gainsay the counsels of eternity, or to rebel against the dis- 
pensations of that high and inscrutable power which shapes the desti- 
nies of men and nations according to its own sovereign and unques- 
tionable will. It becomes us the rather to rejoice that the blow under 
which our infancy would have reeled has been graciously spared for 
the noon of our manhood and the meridian of our strength. It de- 
serves to be considered only as another manifestation of that superin- 



30 

tending care which led our ancestors through the perils of the Revo- 
lution, and has since sliown out in the darkest periods of our his- 
tory, like a pillar of fire to conduct this chosen people of God towards 
the accomplishment of the high destiny for which they have been evi- 
dently reserved. If it has succeeded in humbling us again into the 
reverential posture which becomes an afflicted people, and gathering 
us once more, like our fathers, around the common altar of our coun- 
try, it has accomplished much already. If it shall be inslrumentalin 
demonstrating the self-sustaining powers, and developing another of 
tlic latent beauties of our admirable but experimental system of gov- 
ernment, it will accomplish still more. It has already taught the 
kings of the earth in the universal swell of public sorrow which has 
heaved the bosom of this nation, and drowned even the resentments 
of party, that the prejudices of royalty which surround and fortify 
their thrones are but as dust in the balance when compared with the 
unbought and unpurchaseable afiections of a free people. It will then 
teach them, as we weather in safety the dangerous headland of a new 
succession under untried circumstances, that no bloody convulsion 
such as oft attends the transfer of an iron sceptre, here awaits the de- 
mise of the popular crown. It will teach them too that the spirits of 
the honored and the trusted dead still walk amongst us to quicken, to 
animate, to counsel, and to direct, and uniting in undying counsel the 
wisdom of the dead with the affectionate reverence of the living, it 
will bind the crown of immortality about the brow of our young Re- 
public. 



LEofi'ia 



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